Resident Evil: Restoration
by Jake-ie
Summary: *SECOND CHAPTER UP*Grayson City had always appealed to Ashley McAllen due to it's simplicity but, just like Raccoon City before it, Grayson City hid a secret that Ashley couldn't imagine in her wildest dreams... R
1. That Friday Feeling

**Resident Evil: Restoration**

**Chapter One: That Friday Feeling**

**Author's Note**: As a common-place I do not own the copyright to Resident Evil or its affiliates Capcom. I hope this short introduction will encourage you to come back and read more. All feedback is greatly appreciated as I still need to hone my skills; also, any input regarding plot changes or modifications is welcomed. Foremost, I hope you enjoy!

Under the glorious mid-morning sun Grayson City's skyline sparkled and Ashley McAllen remembered why she had chosen to move here many years ago. A pleasant, vibrant city in the American Midwest - like this one - had been part of her American dream from an early age, after years of experiencing what could only be called a 'troubled' childhood in the hustle and bustle of New York City. The decision had been at great personal cost to Ashley, severing all ties with her family back east and the trust fund that came with it, but it also gave her a great sense of pride to realise that everything she had today was the reward of her own ingenuity and skill. It had been two long years since she had arrived in Grayson City with only a suitcase full of clothes and two thousand bucks saved from serving average coffee at a tourist café near Times Square.

As she sipped on her black coffee and stared at the sparkling river that divided the city, she realised that it was mainly luck that had guided her to this small, but expensive, apartment on the Riverfront. Umbrella Corporation had an elusive history, some sort of media blackout after an incident in the Midwest had made them a very private organisation, but they had been impressed by Ashley's scientific background and welcomed her with open arms.

Shattering her daydream, her dull melodic ringtone filled the room and she remembered the one piece of nightmare in her American dream; her boss, Sandra. Sandra was a stickler for punctuality, formality and, most infuriatingly, zero personality which led to an almost mechanised atmosphere in the workplace that Ashley just couldn't bear.

Resisting an uncomfortable shudder, Ashley flicked open her phone and impersonated her best automated voice: "Hello, this is Researcher Ashley McAllen, how are you today Sandra?"

The chill in Sandra's voice could have frozen the coffee in her cup.

"This is a company, Ashley, and as such I would expect you to at least be punctual!" she snarled before continuing her almost ritualistic tirade against Ashley, from the way she wore her curly blonde hair down to the fact she had friends in the workplace.

Ashley was unfazed by the usual bluster that surrounded Sandra but couldn't for the life of her understand why Sandra thought she should be in work at ten thirty on a Friday morning, when her shift didn't start until midday.

"Can you not remember anything Ashley? I reminded you at the beginning of the week that we had a very special guest today that you were to personally escort around the facility."

The colour drained from Ashley's face as the memories rushed back to her. She instantly forgot the coffee on the counter as she rushed into her bedroom.

"O…Of course I remember," she faked, hastily pulling on a pair of sleek black trousers and buttoning a slim-fit white shirt over her slender frame. "I will be in the foyer of administration within the hour Sandra, you can count on me."

A laboured sigh was the only reply before the subtle click of the line going dead. Ashley began to panic almost immediately, charging into the bathroom and continuing her morning routine whilst the radio continued to stream from the kitchen. The previous report about ideal camping spots in the Grayson forest had been light-hearted and cheery but, suddenly, the reporter's tone soured.

"Reports are coming in this morning of a missing person around Lake Mulholland… Grayson City Police Department describe Michael Barnes, 43, as an avid fisherman of average build and Caucasian decent, recognisable by his distinctive dragon tattoo on his forearm and an engraved watch that he always wears. His family and friends are very concerned as to his whereabouts so any information would be greatly appreciated. This is Amber Rawlings for GCRC - now back to Andy in the studio."

Ashley paused straightening her hair as she remembered that this wasn't the first time she had heard about the dangers of visiting Lake Mulholland. There had been a report at work of brown bears apparently breeding near the lake due to the plentiful salmon. She made a mental note to avoid the Lakeview Parkway on the drive home that night, before hastily applying her make-up and checking her - now straightened - curls in the bathroom mirror. Leaving her double bed unmade, she picked up her car keys and was halfway down the corridor before cursing silently and heading back to her apartment. Lying on the kitchen counter, next to her stone-cold coffee, was the Umbrella employee card that had been the bane of her memory for the past two years. Ashley could remember at least a dozen times that Sandra had scorned her for forgetting the bland identity card that allowed her access into the mid-security labs.

For the second time, she began to make her way towards the front door as the familiar sound of keys in the lock welcomed her. Opening with a reassuring squeak, the door revealed a tall, well-built man in his late twenties, wearing leathers, who smiled as he caught a glimpse of her. Ryan had been her boyfriend for a year now. A sergeant in the GCPD, he sometimes worked nights, and yesterday had been no different. She could already see the slight bags developing below his emerald eyes.

"Hey babe," he said "You off out? Stay away from Lake Mulholland, someone went missing last night."

She smiled back at him.

"I heard over the radio. I don't think I want to risk it just for the view."

She kissed him playfully on the cheek. "Sorry I have to go so quickly but Sandra is going to have my ass if I miss this meeting."

He smiled before throwing himself onto the bed and wrapping the covers around himself, murmuring that she should stay safe and call him if she needed him. Despite all his macho appeal, Ryan always was a big softie around her, despite his protests to the guys down the precinct, and he always looked out for her. They had met at an Umbrella sponsored corporate event that she was attending and he, strangely, was guarding. They always joked that if it wasn't for Umbrella's paranoia about security breaches they would never have met and, after nearly six months of living together, she didn't want to think about that.

Closing the door quietly behind her, Ashley exited the apartment building and shivered in the fresh autumn chill before entering her green sedan. The monotonous drive to work passed without incident and, in no time at all, Ashley's car was pulling onto the gravel drive outside the impressive Umbrella complex.

A modern mixture of white-washed concrete, steel and glass, the complex was an impressive site amongst the immaculate lawns and yellowing trees of the driveway. Ashley had often wondered who bankrolled the stylish laboratory and, as she looked to the fourth floor penthouse, she saw the silhouette of a figure standing on the balcony and muttered jealously:

"Him."

She pulled into her designated parking bay, quickly retrieved her creased lab coat from the back seat, and walked briskly through the glass double doors into the spacious atrium. A large glass desk dominated the room with several receptionists sitting behind a bank of computer screens and phones.

As Ashley approached the desk, one of the receptionists turned to her. Bubbly and loud with long brown hair, Samantha was the exact sort of person that Sandra believed should not work at Umbrella, but she had instantly become friends with Ashley. She looked up at Ashley with her kind, hazel eyes before uttering:

"Sandra is on the warpath again - " she rolled her eyes - "and told me to tell you," - and now she put on her funniest impression - "to get to conference room C as soon as you arrive."

She stifled a giggle, before whispering:

"Remember to meet us at Raven at about nine." She paused dramatically. "If you can tear yourself away from your hubby, that is."

Ashley feigned thought before replying, "Of course I will be there, have a vodka Martini waiting for me."

With that, Ashley hurried up one of the flanking stainless steel staircases to the second floor.

Ashley continued down the network of corridors casually saying "Hey," or waving to passing clerks and researchers. Despite Sandra's hardest efforts Ashley was well-liked in the office. The thick pine door labelled 'Conference Room C' loomed ominously up before her and she swallowed hard before knocking lightly. A stern "Enter," returned from behind the door and Ashley cursed her forgetfulness again as the door opened, revealing a plush office centred around a long wooden table flanked by black leather chairs.

Sitting in the furthest chair away from Ashley was Sandra, sporting a horrible zebra print skirt and purple blouse that did not aid her short stature. She motioned to Ashley to sit at one of the chairs, without disrupting her in-depth conversation with an enigmatic-looking man dressed in black, whose eyes were masked by a pair of black shades.

"… of course we can accommodate any research that you wish to bring to this facility, sir, and you have access to all the resources you require."

She flicked her eyes towards Ashley before continuing, "Obviously, specifics cannot be discussed now we have been joined by my associate but if you have any queries, do not hesitate to visit my office on the third floor and, in the meantime, Ashley will be happy to give you a guided tour of the laboratories."

Whoever was visiting obviously did not find pleasure in conversation and answered with a curt nod as Sandra left for her room, casually glaring at Ashley as a warning on the way out.

Once alone in the room with the stranger, Ashley felt overwhelmed almost immediately; his presence for some unknown reason intimidated her. Regaining her composure, she smiled, before saying "Good morning, Mr…" she paused for a response, which seemed to take forever, before he gruffly replied:

"Walkers… Bret Walkers."

"Well Mr Walkers, if you would like to follow me, I will begin by showing you administration and then proceed to the laboratories on the underground levels."

As Bret stood up to follow her she realised just how intimidating he was. At over six foot three and incredibly well built, Bret looked like a one man army, which was not aided by his surly attitude. Ashley, trying desperately to remove all references to Duke Nukem from her mind, began the almost automated tour around the administration facility. Walkers seemed much more interested in the garish art that Sandra had decorated the walls with than the corporate brochure that Ashley was regurgitating, until they reached the elevator to the laboratories on the lower floors. Swiping her security card over the panel and punching in the five digit code, she continued her usual speech:

"This facility prioritises safety and security above all else, as such, we only have two elevators and a secured stairwell down the laboratories to prevent any corporate mishap or sabotage from occurring."

Behind the dark shades, Walters seemed to be taking in every detail of, what Ashley considered, the most boring part of the tour.

"I will escort you around the B1 bio-laboratories before leaving you in the capable hands of Dietrich Van Oort, our head researcher, who will be able to take you down to the high security labs on B3."

Entering the cramped lift, Ashley yet again couldn't shake the awkward feeling she experienced around Bret and willed the stylish steel and glass elevator to go that little bit faster to the laboratories.

The glass doors opened and revealed a clinically clean set of white corridors, all furnished with an assortment of potted plants, leather chairs and glass end tables whilst several lab technicians and researchers continued their daily work.

"If you would like to follow me, Mr Walkers, you can see that our laboratory facilities are second to none and we have a dedicated full-time staff of researchers and technicians at your disposal."

For a brief second, Ashley swore she spied a smile soften his cold features before the surly grimace returned to Walkers' face.

The tour continued without an incident as she highlighted the many sealed laboratories dotted around the floor and the ample office space dedicated to each of the science teams who worked there. Before long, Ashley approached an impressive set of cold grey security doors with a small retinal scanner fixed to the wall beside them. Turning, she once again began to chat to the silent Walkers.

"And here is where the facility descends into the highest security sector, which is where our head researcher Dietrich Van Oort will be escorting you around momentarily."

As if hearing her last sentence as his cue, the heavy doors hissed apart to reveal a short, balding man wearing a pristine lab coat and smart black shoes. He smiled at Ashley, revealing his coffee-stained teeth, before announcing: "It is a pleasure to have you here today mister Walkers, we have been anxiously waiting your arrival and prepared all the necessary personnel and equipment if you decide to relocate your project here."

He turned to Ashley as Walkers silently began to type on his PDA and said:

"Thank you again Ashley for this, do not worry about Sandra. I will tell her you did brilliantly."

With that, he began to escort Walkers into the deeper recesses of the facility as Ashley hurried back upstairs to receive her inevitable scolding from Sandra…

(-) (-) (-)

Across town, next to the glistening shores of Lake Mulholland, Michael Barnes struggled to stumble across the loose stones in his panic.

What has just happened to me? he thought as his thick hiking boots splashed in the icy water; turning back, he saw in the distance the wreckage of his once peaceful fishing retreat.

A trail of crimson blood was slowly being lapped up by the eager waves of the lake and he pushed his shredded jumper tightly onto his aching wound. His free hand desperately fumbled for his cellphone and quickly tried to dial 911. He raised the phone to his ear to hear the cold silence that announced he was out of service… no way to contact his wife… no way to contact for help.

In the distance, Michael could see the faint outline of Lakeview Parkway; if only he could get there, he might make it through this ordeal unscathed.

One of the many bushes that grew near the lake edge rustled and Michael knew that whatever had attacked him was going to finish him off… if he didn't run.

Limping heavily, Michael began a laboured sprint along the shoreline, cursing his decision to come fishing as a peaceful escape from the family. The memory of his wife and kids haunted him as he spluttered for air, continually feeling weaker and slower.

What will they do without me?

He called out wildly: "Help me! Anyone - can you hear me? Help me!"

In the midst of his panic, he failed to notice a lobster pot caught precariously amongst the seaweed and he collapsed awkwardly onto the hard pebbles. Winded, exhausted and bleeding, Michael tried desperately to shout out across the lake, urging anyone to just help him see his family one more time.

His pale, clammy hands desperately attempted to support his weight on the uneven rocks but, eventually, the pressure and panic caused his arms to collapse beneath him. Lying there with the gentle, cool water of the lake soaking into his blood-stained clothes, Michael realised that he wasn't ever going to make it home…


	2. Unforeseen Circumstances

Resident Evil: Restoration

Chapter Two: Suspicious Circumstances

Author's Note: As a common-place I do not own the copyright to Resident Evil or its affiliates Capcom. I hope this short introduction will encourage you to come back and read more. All feedback is greatly appreciated as I still need to hone my skills; also, any input regarding plot changes or modifications is welcomed. Foremost, I hope you enjoy!

As the slowly-setting sun began to dim the small bedroom in Ashley's apartment, the high-pitched tones of Ryan's pager pierced the tranquil silence. Groggy and comfortable, Ryan battled with the noise, willing himself to go back to sleep and ignore whatever petty crime he had been awakened for.

Eventually, with great effort, he forced himself to sit up in Ashley's comfy double bed and rub his stinging eyes as they adjusted to the vanishing light. Cursing whoever had decided that he needed to come in after a twelve hour shift, Ryan picked up his pager and read the report:

"All officers report to a suspected 187 near Lake Mulholland… Chief Raymond Piotrowski."

Ryan's eyes widened as he re-read the report before dashing to the bathroom and hastily checking that he was presentable to the outside world. After fiddling with his jet-black hair in the mirror so that it looked like a mixture between bed-head and surfer, Ryan returned to the bedroom and pulled out his spare set of black leathers from the rickety wardrobe in the corner of the room. He picked up his phone from the bedside table and noticed that a text from Ashley was waiting on the home screen saying:

"Hope this didn't wake you, going down to Raven after work but shouldn't be too late home. Ring me if you need me. Love Ash x"

He smiled before telling her that he would be out late on a case, but not to worry and that he would see her in the morning. Fastening the last few zips on his leathers, Ryan pocketed his phone, keys and wallet and looked longingly at the unmade bed he craved before heading out the front door and down the corridor to street level.

(-) (-) (-)

Grayson City's Church Hill area was stylish with its several mock-Victorian mid-sized apartment blocks and small boutique shops and restaurants. It wasn't one of the most expensive areas of town but it certainly wasn't anything like the inner-city and Ryan appreciated Ashley's insistence on living here in the end.

As the early autumn chill began to sweep down the streets, Ryan turned down the alley next to his apartment building and saw the one perk of the mundane roads in Grayson City, his highly-tuned Suzuki motorbike. In electric blue and black, this racing motorbike was the life and soul of his job, providing him with the exhilarating speed and pinpoint handling that enabled him to have some the fastest response times in his unit.

As he slipped the helmet over his head and revved the engine, he hoped that the dispatcher had got the call-out wrong. It would be his first homicide as a sergeant at the force.

Feeling the bike roar into life, he felt overwhelming excitement as he weaved between the traffic of Church Hill before veering onto Lakeview Parkway. Despite the stigma that surrounded the road due to local brown bears, Ryan couldn't deny the beauty of the view as his bike snaked along the gentle meanders that mirrored the shoreline of Lake Mulholland. Darkening to deep orange, the sun began to dip behind the steep peaks that bordered the northern shore of Lake Mulholland, throwing alien shadows across the dark blue lake.

Ryan was just beginning to enjoy the freedom of the open road when he reluctantly noticed that he was coming up to his final destination. About five hundred yards ahead of him, Ryan could make out the familiar shapes of two police cruisers and the banners of police tape that signified a road block.

As Ryan pulled up to the blockade he could see several fellow officers manning the barrier, apologising to the odd few disgruntled motorists. It appeared to Ryan that the police warnings against using Lakeview Parkway in the early autumn were paying off… the road was eerily quiet for a Friday evening. As Ryan kicked the stand-out for his bike, a skinny officer approached him and nervously began to speak:

"Evening Sergeant, sorry for the call out but when me and Officer Graham discovered the crime scene, we thought that you would want to be informed."

Officer Redding was new at the force and it showed, as he stood in front of Ryan sheepishly trying to avoid eye contact; Ryan felt for the kid, who could only have been twenty-one, as the police force was one daunting workplace.

"It's no problem, Officer Redding," he said, and smiled briefly. "Have the Crime Scene Investigators been called?"

Redding nodded before returning to the police cordon. It was now Ryan's turn to be nervous as the dark glow of the sun faded into the inky blackness of night. He cautiously vaulted the crash barrier and followed a narrow, muddy path down to the lake that was overgrown with nettles and weeds. As he continued to descend, he could almost swear there was someone watching him in the shadows - every light breeze made the bushes turn into an orchestra of footsteps.

As he emerged from the small trail, he could see the distinctive white tent of the Crime Scene team, illuminated by several halogen lamps just above the shoreline. Even in the pale glow of the lamps Ryan could see the unmistakeable sight of blood cutting a path over the pebbled shore towards a battered lobster pot, where a pool of crimson was still fighting against the invasion of waves.

Behind him, a gruff voice snapped him out of his reverie:

"Campbell! You're not out here to plan your next date with Ashley."

It was the joking voice of his older former partner, Jamie Fischer; he was standing next to the pristine white tent, although without the customary smoke in his hand, something Ryan might have commented on had they not been at a crime scene. At five foot nine he was slightly shorter than Ryan, but definitely more defined muscularly, and was known around the precinct for his trademark white smile and short, almost army-style hair.

"How's it going, being a desk jockey for the chief?"

He took one last drag on the cigarette before carelessly flicking it into the lake and motioning for Ryan to join him inside the tent.

Inside the pale white tent, two crime scene investigators pored over the mutilated body of a middle-aged man, as Jamie continued:

"I got to say kid… I haven't seen something as grim as this in a very long time."

Ryan winced as he saw the torn flesh around the man's neck and back, surrounded in a pool of congealing blood. Immediately, one of the mousey crime scene investigators began to describe that the man, believed to be Michael Barnes, had sustained significant trauma and blood loss from what appeared to be a mauling.

Ryan approached the body with unease before being interrupted again by the assistant, telling him that all items belonging to the deceased were on the table at the far end of the tent.

Jamie began to explain:

"We found a phone in his hand, bloodied and unusable along with this watch - " he paused, picking up an evidence bag displaying a silver wristwatch lightly spattered with blood. "On the reverse side, it's engraved with the phrase 'Fiona Barnes forever yours 4.4.1977' so it is natural to assume that this is indeed the missing Michael Barnes. We have already contacted the next of kin but we needed to clarify with you as to what you think the COD is?"

Ryan knelt beside the body and inspected the deep gashes that seemed to criss-cross his body and couldn't help but feel that this was another tragic incident with one of the local brown bears. Surrounding some of the smaller cuts, however, there appeared to be several teeth-like incisions.

"Has anyone catalogued these apparent bite marks?" he asked and immediately the investigator responded, curtly:

"My colleague and I were unsure about those marks… they could be animal… maybe wolf, but we will need to continue the autopsy at the lab before we can confirm."

Above them, an ominous roar of thunder signalled another bout of heavy rain was going to drench Grayson City imminently.

"Wrap this up people, I don't want the rain to destroy any more evidence and - " he looked around the room. "Speaking of which… have any of you found his fishing equipment?"

Jamie looked up from the evidence table and answered:

"Actually, we haven't, but I guess there is a cabin or pier around here that he was camped at." He paused. "So, you still up for some detective work?"

Ryan smirked at another of Jamie's cheap jibes; beneath it all, Ryan still believed Jamie hadn't forgiven the captain for his early promotion.

"Yeah, let's go."

As they peeled back the outer sheet of the tent, a light spattering of rain began to descend from the gloomy sky. Jamie peered across the shoreline and pointed towards a small log cabin a brief walk away. Behind them, the investigators began to cover the body and disassemble the tent ready for the paramedics to arrive.

Leaving the investigators behind, Jamie and Ryan began a light jog across the pebbles to escape the ever-increasing rain. Flicking on his flashlight to illuminate the trail leading to the abandoned cabin, Jamie took the lead.

As they entered the clearing, it was obvious some sort of struggle had occurred; the light panel door was creaking in the wind, surrounded by shards of glass. Unfastening his holster carefully, Ryan withdrew his lightweight 9mm pistol and indicated to Jamie that he was going to do a brief sweep of the area, and to not go in the cabin alone. Jamie nodded, before pulling out his cell phone to inform the crime scene investigators that their work was not over yet.

Booming above them, another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the clearing, complete with drops of blood still visible in the mud. Turning the corner of the cabin, Ryan noticed several panels of the raised cabin had been caved in.

"Looks like some sort of animal has been hiding under the cabin for a while, Jamie," he shouted, trying to compete with the thunder.

"Yeah, I got tracks over here too!" Jamie replied, equally as loud. "Is there a fuse box over there? It looks like there should be some electricity in this joint if we can find it."

Ryan proceeded cautiously along the cabin's exterior wall before finally finding the rectangular fuse box and flicking the row of fuses on. Lights burst into life above him, streaming through the windows and throwing shadows across the rustling vegetation.

"Seems to have done the trick, kid, let's see what happened in here," Jamie called out.

Ryan shut the fuse box and hurried back to the entrance stairs, throwing a cautious glance back over his shoulder to check that a glowering brown bear wasn't waiting to savage him. Jamie joined him at the top of the short balcony stairs, weapon raised, before tentatively pushing the panel door open.

The inside of the cabin was unrecognisable; pots and pans littered the floor of the kitchen space whilst several pieces of furniture were overturned or broken. Deep scratches across the floor and walls continued to suggest some sort of enraged animal had attacked Michael as he made his evening meal, A silver pan still sat on the hob, contents waiting to be eaten. Collapsed along the kitchen wall, several fishing poles and nets were entangled in a cryptic knot.

"Check the back, Ryan, I'll call for back-up," Jamie said rummaging through the carnage strewn across the living space.

Ryan entered the dimly lit bedroom and jumped as a blood-curdling scream rang out. His text tone, from the movie Alien, always scared Ashley whenever they were together in the apartment and even Jamie, tough as he was, called out: "Are you alright?"

Ryan calmed his breathing quickly and replied, "Yeah - my stupid text tone. Remind me to change it later, okay?"

Jamie shouted a gruff acknowledgement as Ryan stepped into the darkened room, noticing the bulb in the ceiling light had blown. Pulling out his phone so he could illuminate his surroundings with the backlight, he took a quick look at the text - it was from Ashley, telling him that she had made it to Raven but wouldn't be staying too late because of the weather, and to call her on his way home. Glad though he was to hear from her, he was still on duty, and at a crime scene too; he'd have to reply later.

Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he put away his phone and took stock of the room. The bed lay unmade with the chest of drawers collapsed across it. The window at the opposite end of the room was smashed, and the curtains billowed in the worsening weather. Ryan got the unshakeable feeling that this place had been turned over but the reason for such an action eluded him.

As he continued to search the room, he pulled out the drawer of the bedside table and a few sheets of redacted paper caught his eye. Scanning them fleetingly, he noticed that these were definitely medical documents with only a few phrases such as "test subject", "complete failure" and "unmitigated disaster" left uncensored.

Ryan pondered the implications, before calling out:

"Jamie, what was the victim's occupation?"

A few moments of silence in the creaking cabin passed, unnervingly, before Jamie replied, "According to his wallet, he worked at Grayson City General. Why?"

Ryan relaxed a little. Maybe it wasn't so suspicious after all.

"Found some documents, that's all. When are the CSIs coming up here?"

Jamie appeared from the tiny bathroom.

"Roughly five minutes, I would say," he answered. "It seems that the wolf that got in here was stupid hungry! Even the bathroom's a mess. Pills everywhere. Must have been one hell of a scrap."

Returning to the living room, Jamie stood by the door, staring out at the brewing storm, as Ryan picked up the shattered remains of an expensive laptop.

"Some people will use anything to protect themselves, but it seems whatever it was came through the back window and attacked the victim here – " Ryan paused and pointed at the spatters of blood across the panelled walls, "before retreating, leaving the victim with no option but to try and make it to the Parkway."

Jamie nodded.

"Brutal attack, kid, no way he would have made it."

Approaching from the shoreline, the bedraggled CSIs looked less than excited to be stuck in the rickety old fishing cabin for the rest of the evening, as Jamie continued:

"I can stay here and supervise if you want but you had better get down to Central and speak to the captain. The press are already having a field day with this, whipping up hysteria that it may be a murder."

Ryan thanked Jamie, before dashing across the shoreline in the thickening rain. The deserted coastline was eerily daunting and he was happy to emerge back through the bushes to the roadblock. As he slipped on his helmet and raced away down the deserted road, he still couldn't shake the feeling that what he had just witnessed wasn't as clear-cut as he'd thought…

(-) (-) (-)

Across town, Ashley continued to struggle through the mountain of paperwork Sandra had allocated to her as punishment for her tardiness. The meeting with Sandra had been brief but typically torturous, with Sandra repeating the automated argument she had perfected over the two years Ashley had known her. Ashley had accepted it without discussion, which appeared to anger Sandra further, leading to the pile of papers, reports and journals now cluttering her desk.

As a clap of thunder reverberated above her office and the first smatterings of rain began to stream down the windows of her corner office, Ashley decided that Sandra could shout at her tomorrow, there was no way all this was getting done tonight. As she stacked her workload into piles, Ashley's desk phone chirped into life.

"Hello, Ashley McAllen's office," she droned, glancing back at her wall clock to check the time –

Eight-thirty? I need to be at Raven soon, she thought.

"Ashley?" Samantha's voice called out over booming dance music. "Get your ass down here, girl, it's rammed in here!"

Ashley didn't need a second excuse.

"Don't worry, hon, I am leaving now but the weather is shocking!"

Samantha, as she typically did, knew the hidden question within that statement.

"I told the bouncer about you, you won't have to queue - now hurry or this Martini is mine!"

With that, the line went dead. Ashley rose from her desk and switched off her desk lamp, leaving her bathed in the inky blue light of her PC's standby screen, and went towards to door, grabbing her grey trench coat from the stand on her way.

As she made her way down the spider web of criss-crossing corridors, almost on autopilot, she sent a text to Ryan explaining that she wouldn't be out late and telling him to call her when he was on his way home.

Before she even knew it, she was in the ghostly atrium, which was devoid of life apart from the few dim energy-saving spotlights and the annoyed-sounding humming of the air conditioning. Way above her on the third floor landing, the glow of light indicated that Sandra was still in the building, working away at whatever she did to merit the bitchiest boss award.

Her slick black heels clicked like castanets as she walked through the glass entrance doors, flicking up her coat collar to protect herself from the wind. Grateful to get out of the icy wind, Ashley slammed the car door before looking into the rear view mirror and ruffling her hair to try and give some appeal to her work outfit.

Ashley's drive back to the house was uneventful apart from the odd roll of thunder and blinding flash of lightning.

The wind was whistling down the street as Ashley pulled up outside her apartment. Ashley opened the front door and immediately breathed a sigh of relief, but then checked her phone and realised it was nearly nine – Samantha was going to kill her.

She hurried over to her wardrobe and picked out a tight-fitting red dress and matching high heels which Samantha had been begging to borrow ever since the pair had made friends. She flicked out her phone and ordered a taxi to take her to Raven, before slipping into the clothes she had picked out and dousing herself in perfume.

Rain pattered against the window as Ashley walked into the kitchen, leaving one of the bedside lamps on as a precaution against burglars that Ryan had taught her. She poured herself a glass of white wine and quickly finished it, to try and match the inevitable party mood Samantha was going to be in. She flicked on the stereo, another precaution, as a horn rang out from the street below. Ashley rushed into the bathroom to give herself a quick looking-over, before putting on her heels and hurrying out of the front door to face the grim weather.

Church Hill was eerily deserted as Ashley left her apartment building and dashed towards the taxi. Dripping from the torrential rain, she shivered slightly as she entered the heated taxi and quickly urged the yawning driver to take her to Raven.

Samantha was going to kill her...

Rain continued to thunder down as the taxi snaked through the maze of side-streets before arriving at the black and red behemoth that was Raven. Three storeys high, the nightclub was a formidable beacon of entertainment on an increasingly dreary night and, as usual, looked to be bursting at the seams with a long queue of clubbers hugging close to the wall and shielding their hair with handbags and newspapers.

Slowing to a halt, the taxi driver asked for the seven-dollar fare and then, in the same gruff tones, encouraged her to have a good time.

Stepping out in the street, Ashley shivered in the brisk chill and hurried to the burly bouncer guarding the metallic, flame-shaped doors to Raven.

"Are you on the guest-?"

The bouncer hardly managed to utter another word as Samantha barged out of the double doors and announced:

"Of course she is, you buffoon! I told you earlier that Ashley would be arriving..."

Before the bouncer could interject again, Ashley found herself being dragged through the double doors and into the enormous club.

Raven was certainly impressive, furnished in luxurious black and red, crammed with leather sofas and sweeping chrome bars stocked with exotic drinks. On the back wall, covering all three floors, was an impressive Gothic raven illuminated by two spotlights with several partygoers surrounding it.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Samantha giggled. "You have the same look of awe every time we come here."

"It's creepy, okay?" Ashley retorted. "I can't understand how a twelve foot tall black raven is meant to get people in the party mood?"

Samantha muttered something which was drowned out by the booming speakers above them as they approached the busy bar.

Sitting on two of the stools were two of Samantha's co-workers in administration, Jenny and Tara, who - disconcertingly - waved before returning to their private conversation. Since making friends with Ashley, Samantha had covered their attitudes with apologies and excuses about their personal 'clique' but Ashley knew that many of the administrators couldn't stand the researchers in the facility.

Samantha hastily ordered some strawberry margaritas before shepherding them all to a private booth in a quiet corner of the second floor.

The black oval booth in the corner was illuminated by a low hanging chrome chandelier, a small reserved card placed on the table top.

As Ashley perched herself on the black leather sofa booth she overheard the idle gossip Jenny was spouting to Tara.

"Did you see him today? He is so… handsome."

Tara leaned in closer and replied: "His abs were intense Jenny! Apparently he is high up with management; you would be set for life!"

Jenny blushed as Samantha promptly interrupted:

"He was dreamy alright… Ashley got to spend all morning with him."

Like hungry wolves, Jenny and Tara rounded on Ashley with bloodlust in their eyes, saying, "What was he like? Did he notice us?"

Ashley hesitated briefly before continuing.

"I dunno girls… he was a bit creepy, even Sandra was scared of him…"

Jenny and Tara shared an exasperated look.

"Why do you always want to burst our bubble, Ash? He seems like a catch… well he did until that woman turned up."

Ashley sipped her drink, intrigued that anyone could find that emotionless husk of a man attractive enough to live with.

"Yeah, she was a skinny little thing, quite pretty as well," Samantha continued. "Seemed to be at home in that tight-fitting red dress and heels and he wasn't complaining."

Tara immediately butted in.

"But you have to say, he was looking at Jen when he hugged her, though, wasn't he?"

A deep scarlet bloomed on Jenny's cheeks.

"Stop it guys, he is way out of my league!"

Immediately, all of the girls went into the automated chorus.

"Nooooo! You're stunning, Jen."

Ashley was in the middle of explaining how Jenny had slimmed down since her relationship with Kevin from PR when, across the second floor balcony, she saw the distinctive outline of Bret.

"Isn't that your dream date there, Jen?" Ashley said inquisitively as Bret looked out over the dance-floor, a tumbler of Scotch clasped in his leather gloved hands.

In unison, the gaggle of girls focused on Bret before exhaling delightfully:

"That's him! Go over there and make sure he doesn't get away this time, we got your back if that skinny whore turns up!"

Ashley shuddered at Tara's aggressive tone and decided to stay in the booth with Samantha as the girls hurried over to Bret. Sipping her margarita, Ashley wondered whether Ryan was enjoying his night as little as her but, then again, he didn't have to deal with three unruly personal assistants.

The booming dance tune mellowed into a repetitively catchy chorus as Samantha finished her drink and ushered Ashley to do the same. The strong cocktail, mixed with her light sleep the previous night, immediately sent Ashley's brain into a heady haze – Sandra would not approve.

Ashley arrived at the bar to find Samantha completely hunched over the bar counter, talking to an arguably attractive barman who was all rippled abs and emerald-green eyes. She immediately turned back and babbled:

"This is my friend Ashley! Ashley, meet Jasper."

Jasper extended a manicured and tanned arm towards her and Ashley hastily exchanged the usual pleasantries, before Samantha cut in and continued to turn up the charm. Ashley took the opportunity to text Ryan as Jasper began to show off his cocktail skills to the adoring crowd that was Samantha.

Ashley glanced across the open atrium and stifled a giggle at Tara's nearly forcing Jenny into an embrace with the increasingly frustrated Bret. Behind her, an audible gasp from Samantha indicated that Jasper's tricks were impressing at least one girl in the club and, returning to face the pair, a lurid green drink awaited her on the bar.

"Two Fried Green Tomatoes," Jasper said proudly.

Ashley's mouth erupted in flame as the strong alcoholic cocktail burned down her throat and she nearly spluttered, much to Samantha's amusement.

"Oh don't mind Ashley, she could never handle her drink," she said, accompanying the move with a cheeky wink at Jasper. The mini-romance was soon shattered however as, when the deafening music softened, Jenny's unmistakeable piercing shriek bellowed across the atrium – snapping both Samantha and Ashley out of their respective alcoholic reveries.

"She hit me! Why the hell did she hit me, Bret?" Jenny choked, like a wounded animal, as the gaggle of girls around her turned to face her assailant - undoubtedly the girl in the red dress from earlier.

"Can you not realise?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Bret here doesn't want you and your annoying little cheer-leading squad around him. He is here on business and it seemed that you weren't getting the message," she paused menacingly, "so I sped the process up."

A small scowl was appearing amidst her well-defined cheek bones.

Many of the patrons began to look across the atrium in a mixture of interest and worry as Samantha and Ashley hurried, rather unsteadily, towards the intensifying situation.

Tara burst from behind the dishevelled Jenny and raised her hand to slap the mysterious assailant, only for her arm to be grabbed tightly mid-swing by the woman, who spat:

"I would be careful there, little lady. You do not want to make an enemy of me."

Behind her, Bret looked typically blank and inexpressive, as if the entire scene was simply passing him by. Ashley couldn't help but appreciate the antagonising woman's beauty as she glowered at Tara – she was quite short, with jet black hair in a neat bob that contrasted with her devil-red dress and the high heels that seemed to accentuate her womanly features and slim figure.

Tara couldn't seem to speak as the woman continued to hold her wrist and whispered:

"You and your friends are going to leave us alone tonight. Do you understand?"

Tara, who normally would never shy away from a confrontation, seemed to freeze beneath her icy stare, before she uttered:

"Who are you?"

The woman smiled before letting go of Tara's wrist and grabbing Bret's arm, heading towards the VIP section.

"That's none of your business and if you really must…"

The rest of the sentence was drowned out by the return of the dance beat and the girls stood around in stunned and confused silence, Jenny's quiet sobs the only sound. Samantha's maternal instincts immediately kicked in as she wrapped her arms around Jenny, murmuring how Samantha would look after her and not to worry about that vile woman. Tara continued to stand almost lifelessly, in a stunned haze, as Ashley approached her.

"What the hell happened?" Ashley asked.

Tara took several seconds to adjust herself from the daze and immediately blurted:

"I don't really know! We had just tempted Jenny into talking to Bret and she just seemed to appear from nowhere," Tara said, and paused to take a long gulp of her cocktail. "That woman has some serious jealousy issues."

Samantha stood in front of Jenny, wiping the tears from the girl's cheeks as a red hand print bloomed on the one side of her face.

"Let's go to the restroom and get you fixed up, hun," she said caringly.

Jenny nodded and continued to whimper, propped against Samantha as the pair descended the decadently chrome stairs, across the colourful dance floor to the ladies' restroom.

"If I ever see her again, Ashley…" Tara began, the colour and rage clearly back in her voice, "I will make sure she regrets hitting Jenny."

Ashley shook her head disapprovingly.

"Don't be silly, Tara! Did you see her? She is crazy - I am pretty sure she would have hacked you all up if she could get away with it."

"Would she now?"

Tara downed the last of her drink. A distinct slur was appearing in her voice. "Well she - she would... well, I dunno, but she can't act like that. Jenny was only flirting!"

Ashley did wonder why the woman had been so overprotective of Bret, her drunk mind immediately assuming her to be some sort of partner to the stone-hearted man. Deep down, however, Ashley couldn't help but wonder if there was something deeper occurring between the two – they definitely did not seem to be a loving couple in the way they left for the VIP Room.

Mischievously, the casual super-sleuth spy within Ashley egged her to go investigate the VIP Room and uncover the true mystery behind the man that had managed to silence the menacing Sandra, but she quickly put the thought to bed – she was halfway past tipsy and undoubtedly no detective… she didn't even have a magnifying glass.

Tara snapped her out of her daze.

"So… Ashley? What are we going to do?" she slurred, tapping her empty glass. "I don't think we neeed any, any more alcohol..."

She seemed to stagger a little bit, despite the fact that there was nothing touching her.

"Is the floor moving?"

Ashley's detective skills tingled again. Was she really this drunk already? She quickly escorted Tara to the booth and fetched her a glass of water, as Samantha brought a teary-eyed Jenny out of the restroom and back up the staircase.

Approaching Ashley, Samantha's face turned equally quizzical at the sight of the inebriated Tara, who had begun to sing loudly to the tune of 'Don't you want me baby?' by the Human League.

"Jenny will be fine, won't you, hunny?" she said kindly, to a still snivelling Jenny, who nodded appreciatively as Ashley proceeded to comfort her with a hug.

"It's up to you, hunny. Do you want to stay? We may need to get Tara home though…" Ashley said tentatively, as Tara continued to sing, oblivious to the world around her.

"Can we just go home?" Jenny asked. Her shrill voice still emanated a slight twinge of emotional trauma from earlier and Ashley breathed an inward sigh of relief – an early night, just what she needed. Jenny perched herself on the edge of the red leather seat and sipped the water that Tara had continued to ignore, as Ashley asked the concerned Samantha:

"Were any guys around Tara before I arrived?"

Samantha's unsteady gaze focused as she replied, "Not that I can think of… but I am not sure." She paused, before gasping:

"Unless it was… her."

Ashley pondered the proposition in her unsteady mind. That woman sure seemed vindictive enough, but what would be her motive?

"Surely not, Sam," Ashley answered "She was just trying to scare us."

Samantha seemed unconvinced and proceeded to order two taxis for the girls - one for Tara and Samantha, who both lived in Downtown, and one for Jenny and Ashley to Church Hill.

"Twenty minutes," she replied. "I think Tara will be able to sleep this off… whatever this is, and I'll call her tomorrow before work to see if she needs a sick day."

Tara twirled around on the seat, nearly sliding off completely.

"We aren't going home yet, girls, are we?" she said, and pulled a sad face worthy of the most demented clown. "I wanna party!"

She staggered around the jet black table and began to loosely dance with Jenny who turned and sighed on the table, head in her hands.

The next twenty minutes were spent subduing an over-emotional Tara, who continued to whine and demanded that more drinks had to be ordered before they left. Samantha appeased her by buying two virgin gin and oranges, which seemed to tame the alcohol demon inside her, at least for now, while Ashley continued to comfort Jenny. who seemed to finally switch from sobbing victim to an angry singleton.

"I just want to go home and forget any of this ever happened!" she huffed. "Maybe I should just ring Ken… at least he wouldn't hit me."

Samantha and Ashley exchanged concerned looks.

"You know he will hurt you, hun," they cooed and she softened a little as they descended the staircase to the small lobby.

Rushing through earlier, Ashley had missed how opulent this club really was.

'Who could afford this?' she thought, as the glamorous mix of chrome fixtures and crystal light danced across the red and white chequered floor.

Samantha went to the enclosed cloakroom and fished out the girls' coats before wrapping herself in a lurid faux fur coat.

"You look like Cruella De Vil," Ashley said, grinning cheekily.

Samantha shrugged off the comment as she wrapped a coat around Jenny; Tara continued to sing at one of the bouncers, who looked helpless against the strong tirade of mumbled lyrics.

Outside, the rain still hammered down on the sidewalk, making this affluent and busy neighbourhood a ghost town well before its usual bedtime. A chilly wind persistently battered the glass doors, and the few brave souls still queuing outside looked bedraggled and almost hungry at the prospect of the girls leaving.

Ashley checked her phone. There were no texts from Ryan. She assumed it must be a busy night or an important case, but couldn't help but feel that an early, lonely night wasn't as appealing as one spent with Ryan. She hugged Samantha and told her to look after Tara on the way home, as two 'Grayson Cabs' pulled up outside and waited for the beleaguered women.

Ashley waved to Tara as she clambered into the taxi and winked at the exasperated Samantha as she escorted Jenny into the warm, inviting taxi.

"112 Maine Avenue please," Ashley said. "Then 172 Alberton Drive."

The taxi driver, an elderly Vietnamese man dressed in untidy casual clothes, nodded and began to snake the car through the maze of side streets in Downtown Grayson City. Ashley turned to face Jenny, who looked slightly less shaken up but was still lost in her own thoughts.

"Are you sure you will be okay tonight, Jenny?" she asked. "I can always stay with you."

Jenny smiled.

"Thank you for the offer, Ash, but I think I'll be okay. I was just shaken up by the speed of it all. But I'll be fine for work tomorrow, don't you worry."

She paused, giggling to herself.

"Hopefully there will be plenty more men in Raven next time!"

Ashley relaxed as Jenny's behaviour normalised and her mind wandered to what was happening in that VIP Room, and moreover, why her entire day had somehow ended up centred around the mysterious and domineering Bret Walkers…

(-)(-)(-)

Behind the heavy black and chrome doors of Raven's VIP Room, locally known as 'The Poe Room', Bret remained expressionless even when surrounded by a staggering display of opulence. Famous writers' and poets' pictures hung on the high walls above the red leather booths and the roaring fireplace made their eyes glint and dance. The dance music was muffled by the heavy doors, allowing him, for the first time since arriving at Raven, to clear his head and think.

Above him, a large chandelier glittered, throwing shadows through the floor-to-ceiling windows on one side and illuminating the faint outline of the many skyscrapers that dominated this part of town.

The VIP Room was empty, just as he had asked for when he booked the room hours earlier. A large table had been placed in the centre of the room, surrounded by red leather chairs.

The woman beside him muttered:

"An impressive choice for such a meeting," and strode over to one of the chairs.

"Just to let you know, however," she said, with a momentary pause, "if I ever have to play jealous again to save you the trouble of warding off some petulant teenagers, I may have to kill you."

The menacing twinkle in her eyes danced in Bret's sunglasses and a fraction of a smile spread across his face.

"My dear, if we ever had the unpleasant experience of fighting, I can assure you it would be me killing you," he purred, as he squeezed her shoulder, enough to hear her slight wince as he took his place at the head of the table.

Picking up the crystal decanter on the table, he offered:

"Would you like a Scotch?"

Bret never knew where he stood with Ada. Ever since they started co-operating, it was never crystal-clear whether Ada was out for him, herself or some previously unknown party. Bret knew one thing though, she was reliable, efficient, and prompt with any task that he gave her unless a certain blonde-haired man was involved - but the less said about him, the better.

He sipped the oaky, rich Scotch and began to ponder once more as several very official people from Grayson City slowly filtered into the room to take their seats.

"If I can fool these people… maybe the testing can begin…" he chuckled inwardly. "At least as far as they know…"


End file.
